


Right Through The Roof Of The Night

by Lothiriel84



Series: A Vapour Trail In The Empty Air [2]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Developing Relationship, Episode Tag, Episode: s04e02 Uskerty, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:43:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4099720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow, though he's woken again by the discomfort in his hand at some point during the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Through The Roof Of The Night

Martin is exhausted when they eventually check in at what he’s fairly sure is Kilkenny’s only ‘no star’ hotel, and yet is still an improvement from spending the day in the rain and ending it in a truck full of geese.

(Gerry the Airport Manager has kindly offered to look after his goose for the night. Well, Carolyn’s goose, actually, since she’s the one who paid for it in the end.)

After a lukewarm shower he lets Douglas talk – or possibly bribe – his way into the hotel’s laundry facilities, such as they are; both of his hands are hurting, although for different reasons, and he can’t bring himself to care about his soiled uniform until he’s had some sleep. He’s out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow, though he’s woken again by the discomfort in his hand at some point during the night.

“Here, let me,” a familiar voice cuts in through the fog in his brain, careful hands taking hold of his own and gently probing his swollen fingers; he lets out a soft whimper, which turns into a sigh of relief when some sort of ointment is applied to his skin.

“Thank goodness you’re not allergic to bee stings,” Douglas says as if to himself, and there’s no teasing in his tone, just a faint touch of – caring, maybe? It’s at this point that Martin realises a warm thumb is still rubbing soothing circles across his wrist, and he’s suddenly reminded of the emergency landing in St Petersburg for some reason.

“Douglas?” he utters in confusion, and he himself can’t decide whether it’s a question or a plea.

The movement stops, but the First Officer doesn’t remove his hand. “May I?” he enquires instead, his left hand hovering only an inch away from Martin’s cheek.

By way of an answer, Martin shifts into the touch, his eyes closing of their own accord when Douglas finally leans in.

It’s sweeter than he imagined, quite literally so since Douglas’s mouth still tastes of the pineapple juice he’s had at the airport bar. What a night, he thinks, and if his smile makes kissing a little bit difficult he’s pretty sure neither of them actually minds.


End file.
